


Christmas with You

by hellostarlight20



Series: Pushing Boundaries [5]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Christmas, F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: It's Christmas Eve with John and Rose.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [ MrsBertucci](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbertucci/pseuds/mrsbertucci) for the beta!

John turned to look at Rose, who stood before the bureau mirror checking her makeup. She stole his breath, dressed like she belonged on the arm of a celebrity or billionaire husband. Not a broken astrophysicist like him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in?” A hundred different ways to enjoy the evening flashed through his mind and not one of them had anything to do with this sodding Christmas party.

“Donna’s not my sister.” Rose looked over her shoulder and winked. She straightened and smoothed her hands over her hips, pale hands against the deep red shimmer of her dress. “I don’t have a problem with it, but I think Donna might.” Rose ran her hands over her belly and up to cup her breasts. “We’ll stay a little while, couple hours. After, I’ll make it worth your while.”

John growled and stalked the few paces separating them. Pressing against her from behind, he caught her against the lip of the hotel room bureau and slowly thrust against her arse. He grabbed her hands from where they still teasingly cupped her breasts and held them still.

Running the tips of his own fingers along the soft skin of her cleavage, he met her gaze in the mirror. John didn’t bother looking at himself, the worn face, the greying goatee, the too-prominent nose didn’t matter. Only Rose did, with her full lips, her sparkling brandy eyes now darker with arousal.

“Will you, now?” John dragged the gown’s strap out of the way and kissed along her shoulder, watching her eyes close, feeling her body shudder beneath his. Her fingers twined with his over her breasts and he watched the movement, fascinated with how right they looked together. “And how will you do that, my Rose?”

“Anyway you want, John.” Her voice caught and her head fell back against his shoulder. Rose’s hips pressed back into his and even under the stiff bodice of her gown, John felt her nipples harden. Her skin warmed to their joint touch even as she shivered against that same caress.

“Anyway?” He nipped the back of her neck just hard enough to leave a mark. A mark they both knew she’d show off proudly, uncaring who saw it. “Turn around, Rose.”

She instantly obeyed; her heavy-lidded eyes met his even as her hands remained where they were, cupping her breasts. He looked her over, taking in the form-fitting red formal gown she wore for Donna’s Christmas Eve event, the sparkling silver heels, the drop-pendant diamond necklace he gave her for an early Christmas present.

“You look ravishing, my Rose.” Her met her gaze, watched her fingers tighten on her breasts, her breathing grow ragged. John dragged his finger across her chest, following the outline of her bodice. “I doubt I’ll be able to keep my hands off you. Even with a hundred people watching.”

Rose shivered and he smirked, that dark lust for her blooming in his veins. She never backed away from any of his kinks, opened herself to all he wanted and begged for more. Literally. It continued to amaze John that he found his perfect match in a woman fifteen years younger than him and so bright, so warm, so caring. Nearly the exact opposite of him.

She made him care. Made him want more. And though it hurt to admit, John was forever grateful to Jack and Martha for orchestrating their reunion. Neither had let them forget it. In fact, he might even give in and agree to Rose’s idea to buy them a Christmas present, even if John had never bought Jack anything other than a drink in the twenty years of their friendship.

“You want that?” He stepped closer, breathed in the clean scent of her soap, the light spray of her perfume. The deeper, darker scent of her arousal, a scent he knew all too well. One he craved. “You want me to take you in front of all those guests? Want them to see what you look like as you come?”

She made a noise in the back of her throat, a plea, John thought. Maybe an agreement. But he hadn’t given her permission to speak and Rose knew the rules all too well.

“I wouldn’t, you know.” He took her hands from her breasts and held them in his. Her fingers curled around his, body trapped between the bureau and his. Rose met his gaze, and he wanted to drown in her. “I never want another to see you come. You’re mine.”

That wasn’t where he planned to take this conversation, but John kissed her. Uncaring of her lippy or her hair, or even of crushing her lovely gown, he tugged her into his arms and kissed her hard. Her hips jerked against his and Rose moaned against his mouth. His hands slid down her bare back, over her rounded arse and he seriously considered fucking her against the furniture.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t even be the first time in this hotel, the one he always stayed in whenever he was in London.

“John.” Rose pulled back just enough to speak. “We’ll be late.”

John snorted but didn’t release her. “I don’t care.”

“Donna will.” Rose’s fingers tightened against the nape of his neck. “And you promised.”

He cleared his throat and stepped back. “I did. And you promised me, love.” John didn’t miss the excited gleam in Rose’s eyes. Or the way her breath hitched at the endearment. He didn’t use it often, though he thought about it every day. Every hour. “Pull up your dress and spread your legs.”

Her breath caught but she did as he told. Careful not to wrinkle the material, she rolled the long skirt of her gown to her hips. The thigh-high stocking glimmered with some sort of sparkly shimmer in the light of their bedroom and her bare pussy beckoned him, tempted him, like nothing else in this world.

She wore no knickers, not only because of the dress, but because he knew she loved the feel of her clothing against her.

John crossed to their luggage and rummaged for the box with Rose’s Ben Wa balls—specifically packed and hidden from her for this very occasion. They were large glass balls with pink and yellow roses painted inside—Rose never called him on his sentimentality, but they both know he searched far and wide for the specially made balls. Behind him, John heard her breath catch and another rush of lust tightened through him.

When he turned, Rose stood exactly as he left her. Gown around her hips, legs spread, eyes on him.

Without a word he crossed to her and knelt between her legs, easily slipping the pair of balls inside her already wet pussy. Her breath stopped then left her in a rush, as John kissed her clit. Rose moaned and, unable to help himself or resist her, John tasted her.

He licked her wetness, spread her just enough to taste her. Rose moaned again but said nothing like the good girl she was. She shuddered above him, hips jerking against his mouth. He deliberately took her clit between his teeth and gently bit down. Rose cried out, a whimpering plea for more.

“How long can you last, my love?” John stood in a fluid motion, his fingers still between her legs. One finger slowly circled her clit, just enough to tease, far from enough to appease the arousal clear on her face.

“I think you know me better than that, John.” Her voice was soft, rough. “I think the better question is how long can you last?”

John slipped his fingers inside her, teasing them both. The balls did their job, moving within her, and Rose shuddered. He withdrew his fingers and pressed his lips to the corner of hers, nose nuzzling her cheek. “Lower your dress, Rose.”

He stepped back and deliberately licked his fingers. Rose’s gaze fixated on that and he smirked. Looking her over, he nodded; her hair was slightly mussed and her lipstick needed reapplying, but other than that, John knew only he’d be able to tell how aroused she was. He lifted one hand and kissed her palm. Rose smiled at him and nodded.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Releasing her hand, he finished adjusting his bowtie and waited for her to fix her makeup. “The car should be here any moment. One hour.” He glared at her innocent look. “No more.”

“Two,” she countered. And that damn tongue of hers, that damned talented tongue, teased the corner of her lips and tormented him. “I’m sure you can last two whole hours.”

He growled again but nodded. “Not a minute more.”

“We’ll see who breaks first, darling.” Rose pressed her cheek to his, breath warm on his ear. “What do I win when you break first?”

Anything. Everything. The world, the stars and moon and sun. It’s yours, all of it, whatever you want I’ll gladly lay at your feet, a willing supplicant.

“What do you want, love?”

John watched her think on it, tilt her head to the side, eyes far off until she nodded. The wicked smile she gave, the promise in those brandy eyes, the breathy huff of laughter nearly undid him. Two hours? He was doomed.

“I want to tie you to the bed,” she admitted, voice breathless. “And I want to tease you like you enjoy doing to me. I want to see you at my mercy.”

John stilled. “Rose—”

“I know,” she rushed to say. “I know that’s not how our relationship works or even what you’re into.” Rose licked her lips and his heart cracked at the nervousness in the single gesture. “Just once, John. That’s all. Just—” She shook her head and he knew she already backed away from her suggestion.

“Rose.” He caught her hand and threaded their fingers together. “For you, my Rose—if you win—for you I agree.”

Her eyes brightened and her smile returned and damn if John’s heart didn’t trip over itself. He was a damned idiot, that was for sure. And he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to submit, even once and even for Rose. But he’d try. For her he’d try anything once.

“And if you win?” Rose asked, thumb stroking over his knuckles.

He looked at her, at a complete loss. If he won? What did he want if he won? What boon was there she didn’t already freely give? Any sex-related act was out of the question. They already pushed both their boundaries, all he had to do was ask and John knew she’d agree. She moved in with him, not that he’d have that condition as part of his win.

What else? What did he want from her he didn’t already have? His mind raced and looped back to one thought.

“All right.” John nodded just as the hotel phone rang. “Even if I win, I’ll submit to you for one night.”

He picked up the receiver and listened as the front desk confirmed their car had arrived to take them to Donna’s party. John barely listened, instead watching Rose’s eyes widen. Her mouth opened slightly and, inexplicably, his face reddened.

Hanging up the phone, he folded his arms over his chest.

“Do you mean it?” Rose asked, hope and caution warring in her tone.

He nodded once, feeling like the biggest fool. “Your wish is my command, my Rose. You know that.”

Suddenly she leaped into his arms and kissed him. She moaned, no doubt when the balls moved inside her, and he kissed her harder.

“I love you, John.”

He snorted and set her on her heels. “I love you, too. Now let’s get this sodding Christmas party out of the way so you can ravish me.” But he winked at her and she laughed, a full sound that lifted his heart.

“Hush, now, I like Donna.”

“I like my sister, too.” He paused as he helped Rose with her coat. “Most days. But today her annual party is keeping me from the woman I love.”

Rose laughed again and turned in his arms. “Nope. Not happening.” She pressed her lips gently to his. “Nothing will keep me from you.”

Of course John lost their bet. Of course Rose—who once lasted an entire week aroused and unable to do a damn thing about it—laughed and drank champagne and flirted with others until he saw red.

And that was how, on Christmas Eve, John found himself tied to their hotel bed, a very naked Rose teasing his cock until he gave in and begged her.

They were late to Jackie’s for Christmas brunch. John didn’t care. And from the happy, sated look on Rose’s face, he knew she didn’t either.


End file.
